


Ivy Blade

by colorcoded



Category: Soul Calibur
Genre: Backstory, Community: soulcaliburkink, Expanding on canon, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 21:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18157250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorcoded/pseuds/colorcoded
Summary: An account of how Ivy tamed her living weapon. I took Ivy's backstory and fleshed it out a bit. Written forthis promptat Soul Calibur Kink.





	Ivy Blade

A sword to defeat Soul Edge would have to be unlike any weapon that currently or ever existed in the world. Fortunately, Ivy lived in a time of progress, and she could call on the resources of books from all around the world. She was no mean mind, if she was allowed to flatter herself, and found the study of a great many things easy. So she resolved to study mechanics, looking at the automata of Geber, al-Jazari, Leonardo, and others, experimenting with mechanisms that would allow a weapon to move on its own accord -- switching between different functions or rearranging itself in predetermined ways when a certain force was applied.

Countless designs she drafted, some of which she made small prototypes for, until she had finally settled on a model she liked. A sword could be divided into identical, interlocking segments. By running a line through the center of the segments, they could be separated and freely rearranged in basically any configuration. When she had finalized the design in wood, she commissioned a blacksmith to make a steel version -- eight metal segments and a hilt, which she then linked with wires and hooks. When she was done, the wire could be pulled taught and the segments would lock together into a sturdy sword. With a push of a switch, the internal cable could be slackened and a shake of the sword would loosen the sword into segments that could be used as a whip. The flexibility meant that the segments could even be curled around the body, acting as a kind of armor. Ivy experimented with many different wirings and mechanisms, creating the capability of switching between several pre-defined configurations that allowed attacks on an opponent at various distances from many different angles.

She spent weeks training to use the weapon, but when she finally tested it on a real opponent, she couldn't help but be disatisfied. It was true it was unlike any weapon in existence. It was true that its unpredictable movements could easily catch a person off guard. And its design was elegant enough that she could use it effectively in the heat of battle. But it was still just a gimmick, not much better than if she were to dual-wield a sword and a whip. With enough skill, she could use it to overpower the wielder of Soul Edge, that she had no doubt of -- but was it capable of destroying the cursed sword outright? The result of the tests frustrated Ivy -- she was not limited by ingenuity or creativity, but by the power of mechanics itself. She could make a weapon capable of besting the wielder of the ultimate sword, but clever mechanism alone could not destroy that sword.

Reluctantly, she turned to the alchemical and esoteric texts that had been her father's downfall. She could not allow herself to become obsessed with any one-of-a-kind relic, as her father had, but she needed to see if there was something in the secret arts that would allow her to imbue her sword with more power than mundane science and art could grant. With alchemy, she could refine the steel, make it more durable and sharper than an ordinary blade. But it wasn't enough. Soul Edge, by all reports, had no peer among swords made by human hands, not even by those knowledgeable of alchemy. She scoured the texts for some lost art that might be useful. Presumably, Soul Edge had at one point been made by human hands, or by humans with the aid of supernatural powers. An account of its creation or of a weapon that had been devised to be its rival would yield insights into what could be used to destroy it. But months of searching passed with no result.

Reading esoteric texts turned up references to texts on dark magic, texts that detailed demon summoning rituals. A pact could be made with the summoned demon to grant power beyond that of mere mortals -- for a price. At first, Ivy disregarded these texts. The rituals were elaborate, time-consuming, and unreliable. An utter waste of time when there were still other avenues to be explored. As the possibilities dried up, however, Ivy began to experiment with the rituals, getting practice at first with quick, simple ones that summoned minor demons -- spirits unable to take on a physical form that performed minor favors in exchange for minor prices. When she was experienced enough, she began preparing more elaborate ones that were meant to summon more powerful demons. She supposed a normal person would have hesitated more before invoking these dark rituals, would have feared for their soul, but the truth was that Ivy did not particularly value any of her possessions, her immortal soul included. In any case, these rituals always ended in failure. Powerful demons were not easily bent to the will of humans.

So it was a surprise when one night, the summoning circle Ivy made began to glow and something began to emerge from it. It was a twisted, monstrous arm with larger-than-human proportions. Ivy shuddered at the thought of how powerful the demon must be to maintain a physical form so large. She was already sweating from the exertion of performing the summoning, and a drop of sweat trickled down her face. Dare she hope that this demon would have the ability to grant her deepest wish?

The fingers of the hand curled, pointing to the latest version of Ivy's weapon, which was lying next to the summoning circle. "You wish to imbue this weapon with a living soul to make it the match of Soul Edge," came the inhuman voice of the demon.

"I do," Ivy replied.

"And are you willing to pay the price?"

There was no hesitation. "I am."

The arm reached out to touch the blade. Ivy's eyes widened as she was able to feel a new will, a sentience in the room that wasn't hers or the one she had already sensed from the demon.

"I, Cross of the Pledge, shall confer upon thee the Point in the Escutcheon of Destruction -- Dexter Purpure," the demonic voice said. With these enigmatic words, both it and the summoning circle disappeared.

The demon's disappearance left the room as still and silent and dark as a grave. It would have been comforting if not for the fact that Ivy was certain she was not alone. She took several uncertain steps toward her sword. In the darkness, it was barely visible, just a few glimmers of reflected light allowed her to pick it out on the ground. For a moment, she hesitated. However, her doubts did not last long. Had she finally succeeded? There was only way to find out -- she was eager to know what, exactly, she had bought. And if this was just a dream, a late-night delusion, that would be clear in the morning. She grasped the hilt of the sword decisively.

The entire body of the sword let out a violet light. The segments of the sword vibrated before suddenly rearing up, like a snake poised to strike. In a jerky movement, the segments wrapped around her torso, the sharp edges cutting deep into her skin and drawing blood. Ivy let out a strangled cry at the pain of not only the cuts, but a kind of sharp screaming in her head. She could feel a presence in her mind, shrieking and crashing about her psyche, trying to break it and destroy it as the edges of her sword were trying to do with her body.

After the initial shock of pain, though, Ivy managed to curve her lips into a smile. _You misunderstand,_ she said to the presence in her mind, baring clenched teeth, _I am the master here, and you are my servant._ She willed the segments of the sword to release her, and for the presence in her mind to shrink away. The segments tried to press inward but were prevented from doing so; instead they trembled in place, struggling to move. Ivy continued to exert a steady pressure, breathing heavily through her teeth, blasting the other soul backwards. The presence in her mind darted around, no longer trying to break the place where it found itself but trying to slip away and escape from her grasp. _"Submit to me!"_ she screamed, her voice hoarse and raw.

The sword segments tried to engage in one last struggle, vibrating even more fiercely before suddenly flying outward and then rearranging themselves neatly into the interlocked sword blade. As for the presence in her mind, Ivy steadily pushed it outward until it retreated back into the blade from whence it came. The sword glowed. _Be still, child,_ Ivy said. Eventually the sword quieted and entered a resting state. When it was done, Ivy stood in the dark room alone, breathing heavily, blood trickling from multiple wounds. She smiled. Then she let out a low chuckle, then a full-throated laugh. Yes, she thought to herself, this will do.

Although she was eager to try out her new sword as soon as possible, Ivy needed to recover first. The sword could undoubtedly sense weakness and would take advantage of it. No, she had to be at full strength. When she had finally recovered from her injuries, she grasped the handle of the sword again, expecting some resistance. She got the opposite, instead: silence; limpness. She could still sense the sword's soul, although very faintly. It was not gone, simply playing dead. This was to be her second trial, then. She was stronger than the sword and could prevent it from invading her mind and destroying her body, but was she so strong that she could force it to do her bidding?

She practiced with the sword as she had done many times before, using the mechanical devices to switch between its forms, practicing striking an imaginary enemy directly in front of her, five feet away, ten feet away. _You are a weapon of my design,_ she told the fragment of a soul in her sword. _You were made for the purpose of destroying Soul Edge. That is the reason for my existence, and for yours._ As she cycled through the different arrangements of the blade segments, she told it, _These are the forms you can take._ The soul in the blade did not respond, content to let her move and manipulate its body on her own. That was to be expected -- if she wanted it to exert any effort on her behalf, she would have to coerce it. She would have to start from simple tasks and gradually work up.

She reset the weapon back into its sword form and held it out in front of her. She stared at the length of the blade, willing the segments to come loose from each other, extending the length of the weapon. She reached out to the faint presence in the body of the sword. _Wake up,_ she commanded it. _Extend!_

With a burst of willpower, she forced the sword to move itself. She was able to successfully rouse it from its inactive state, but it did not want to move in the way she had commanded it to. The cable loosened and the segments went flying outward, tugging and straining wildly against the cord that attached each to the other.

Ivy grimaced at this display of disobedience. _Contract!_ she ordered, mentally forcing the segments back into the form of the sword again. They struggled, but then snapped back into place, the cable whirring as it wound back into the hilt of the sword. _When I tell you to extend, you will come loose and move forward in the direction of the tip. Do you understand?_ The sword was silent. _Extend!_ The segments came loose immediately this time, and in a slightly less wild manner, but they still twisted and danced around.

 _Contract!_ she said, and the segments went back into the sword state.

_Extend! -- Extend! -- Extend!_

Ivy spent the better part of an hour on this simple exercise, at the end of which she was beginning to fatigue. The sword was still defiant, but it was enough that she was able to prod it into action. The training would continue.

After a week, Ivy was able to switch the sword between its different arrangements without using the mechanisms she had built into the sword. This the sword did dutifully on command, without enthusiasm -- if a sword could be said to have enthusiasm. Then one day as she was running through warm-ups with the sword, the segments suddenly flew up and then straight down at her. Ivy reacted quickly, though, diving out of the way of the sharp steel and rolling on the ground. Only one of the segments had managed to graze her, opening up a wound on her arm. She quickly backed away from the sword hilt, which had fallen from her hands onto the floor, and waited out of range for the segments to lose their energy and enter a restful state. With a rapid movement, however, the segments broke free of the mechanisms attaching them to the hilt and charged for her once more. Ivy dodged out of the way just in time, causing the segments to embed themselves into the wall behind her head. She dived across the room to grab an older model of the whipsword off of her workbench. By the time the segments had freed themselves from the wall and charged at her again, she was ready for them. With ease, she deflected the segments with her old blade.

 _You're cheeky, aren't you?_ she said. _I like that. So, you want to best me in a fight?_ Ivy raised her sword with one hand and beckoned with the other. _Then come at me!_ Tracking the eight segments was difficult and took all of Ivy's concentration. Losing a single one meant she would soon find it embedded in her back. But in the end, Ivy was experienced in a fight, and the whipsword was natural in her hands. She repelled the onslaughts with ease. As she swatted away a segment and sent it flying into the ground, she told the sword, _Do you see? In my hands, you could be so much stronger than you are alone._

The sword did not have the energy needed to move by itself for more than a few minutes. Before long, the shards faltered and then fell to the ground, still as stones. Ivy collected the fragments and connected them into a single blade again. She then spent the rest of the day reattaching them to the hilt, doing away with the complicated mechanisms she had been using to change the tension of the cables and the way the segments related to each other. She wouldn't need them anymore, she knew.

That night, she held the finished product up. She could feel the presence of the sword again, faint. "I like your spirit," she said to the sword in a soft voice. "I don't want to crush that. I desire a sword that has its own will. However, its aims must be aligned with my own. I can have a wild sword but not a wild sword that desires to kill me. Only then will we be a match for Soul Edge."

The next few days, Ivy spent training the new sword to move and rearrange itself in the "familiar" ways it had previously done in its older, mechanical body. The sword had never been more compliant and reliable. However, during one session, the segments of the sword suddenly broke free and began to fly upwards. Ever wary, Ivy prepared herself to dodge a new attack. But the segments did not strike, just flowed up and around her, forming circles and waves. Ivy was quick to understand the meaning. Her sword did not want to fight but to dance.

"Beautiful," she murmured as the segments wheeled and spun through the air before lining themselves up gracefully one by one on the hilt again. The sword glowed violet briefly, then faded into the normal shine of metal. "You don't have a name yet," she remarked, turning the blade over in her hand to admire it. "Very well, I name you 'Ivy Blade.'"

* * *

Several months later, Ivy was trekking through a forest in the middle of Europe, wearing a cloak and her sword strapped to her back. Without warning, her sword suddenly came alive in time to reflect a projectile. From the corner of her eye, Ivy could see the crossbow bolt ricocheting onto the ground and disappearing among the vegetation. She whirled around and peered into the distance in the direction the bolt had likely come from, spotting several men hiding in the trees, seemingly thrown into consternation at seeing their bolt deflected. Common brigands by the looks of them.

With a smile, Ivy drew her weapon. Such rudeness deserved punishment.

_"Sing, my sword!"_

**Author's Note:**

> I really had a lot of fun incorporating some of my favorite things to write, namely (1) fight scenes and (2) references to quotes from the game (and also Ivy's dominatrix theme but in a gen way). So I'm really happy with how this came out!


End file.
